Before the Revival, There Was Fear

Last Sunday was one of those Sundays where everything seemed to collide at once.

We’re in the middle of an incredible sermon series called Love Goes First, based on Andrew Forrest’s book of the same name. It was Pentecost Sunday. It was the Sunday before Memorial Day. And for us Methodists, it was also Aldersgate Sunday, the day we remember John Wesley’s heart being “strangely warmed.”

Now in my defense… that’s a LOT of material for one pastor to hold together in a single sermon.

And honestly? I thought I did pretty okay. I managed to connect Pentecost to the message and properly provide space for us as a congregation to offer a moment of reflection in honor of Memorial Day. Two out of three ain’t bad, right?

But later that afternoon, it hit me: I completely forgot about Aldersgate Day.

And the frustrating part is… it actually would have fit the sermon perfectly!!!!

Because this week’s message was about fear. About the way fear keeps us from moving toward people, toward difficult conversations, toward witnessing, toward love. We talked about how “fear builds walls, but love opens wells.” We talked about Jesus crossing barriers in John 4 and moving toward the woman at the well when everyone else would have stayed away.

And wouldn’t you know it, John Wesley himself had his own fearful moment long before he became the titan of revival we often picture.

Before the field preaching. Before the Methodist movement. Before the spiritual awakening.

There was a terrified young Wesley on a boat in the middle of a violent storm crossing the Atlantic. While he was panicking and fearing for his life, the Moravians on board calmly sang hymns and prayed with complete confidence in Christ. Their peace shook him.

Wesley realized something in that moment: he had religion, knowledge, discipline, and even ministry experience… but deep down, he still lacked assurance. Fear still ruled parts of his heart.

And years later, at Aldersgate, when he felt his heart “strangely warmed,” it wasn’t just an emotional moment. It was the realization that Christ's grace was truly for him. Personally. Completely.

And maybe, in a strange way, forgetting Aldersgate on Sunday turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

Because it reminded me that Aldersgate is not just a date on the church calendar meant to be remembered once a year. It is a reminder that fearful people can still be transformed by grace. That even trembling faith can become a courageous witness. That God still warms hearts today.

Maybe some of us need that reminder more than we need a perfect sermon.

So this week, instead of simply remembering Aldersgate… maybe we live it.

Move toward someone instead of away from them.
Begin the difficult conversation.
Offer grace first.
Love first.

Because before we ever moved toward God…
God moved toward us first.

Love goes first.